


the battle for hearts and souls

by narglesmademedoit



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hopeful Ending, I just want Neil and Todd to be happy is that so much to ask, M/M, They're just soft and in love, even though we know who that major character death is, why couldn't they stay like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narglesmademedoit/pseuds/narglesmademedoit
Summary: One day at Welton, Mr Keating tells them that thinking for themselves, understanding poetry properly and not just how Dr J Evans Pritchard teaches is a battle, that the casualties could be their hearts and souls. Todd sits in his seat, looking at his textbook with the page ripped out and thinks that if words are the army in this great battle, then his retreats, every time.
Relationships: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	the battle for hearts and souls

**I**

Todd decides early on that the background is the safest place he could be. He grows up in the shadow of his brother (“ _Big shoes to fill_ ,” Mr Nolan had said and Todd had nodded and stared at the ground and mumbled “Thank you,” like it wasn’t something he felt the crushing pressure of almost every day) and with the sickening feeling that he is never quite good enough pooling in his gut.

Todd attends three different schools before finally following his brother’s footsteps into Welton. He despises all three equally, though they blend into one another in his head, the same awful events every time. Teachers who force him to the front of the class to talk no matter how much he begs them not to and shout when they can’t hear him, classmates who laugh when he stutters and stumbles over the words and his hands shake with fear, both absolutely convinced that _silent_ is synonymous with _slow_. Report cards become so repetitive that Todd could write them himself, descriptions like _unwilling to participate_ and _nothing like his brother_ and _wasted potential_.

Despite what his parents are beginning to believe, Todd’s head is not hollow. It is filled with words, born from his silent perceptions and some dark crevice of his mind, so many words that he fears he may one day crumble under the weight of them. It would be a release to open his mouth and let them fall, tumbling and spilling out into the classroom, his home, proof that he is not slow, that he does more than simply exist. But no matter how hard he tries, the words refuse to take the escape, remain firmly lodged in his brain where they’ve grown so comfortable.

(One day at Welton, Mr Keating tells them that thinking for themselves, understanding poetry properly and not just how Dr J Evans Pritchard teaches is a battle, that its casualties could be their hearts and souls. Todd sits in his seat, looking at his textbook with the page ripped out, and thinks that if words are the army in this great battle, then his retreats, every time).

**II**

Todd joins Welton when he is seventeen. As the eldest scholar joining that year he cannot help but stick out. Still, he huddles in the corner of the pew in an attempt to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, all the while thinking about the many teachers who stopped him and his parents on their way in to discuss his ( _cleverbraveperfect_ ) brother and their expectations that Todd will perform to the same high standards. None comment on his nervous energy, ask how he feels about being suddenly uprooted from his comfortable routine at Balincrest and forced once more into playing a poor imitation of his brother.

The procession starts, ungracefully ripping Todd from his musings with the squeak of bagpipes and the uniform thud of polished shoes on the unforgiving stone floor. The students entering the chapel hold banners above their heads, proudly displaying the four pillars of _tradition, honour, discipline_ and _excellence_ , each one the picture of a perfect Welton scholar.

That’s Todd’s first memory of Neil and it sticks with him, even when he begins to know Neil as ( _impulsivecaringdesperate_ ) Neil rather than the school’s poster boy. Todd remembers Neil with a perfectly knotted tie (which he’s sure he never sees again) and big brown eyes that spark with life and the mischief and excitement Todd comes to recognise as distinctly his. His first memory of Neil is of the sun coming through the chapel window and illuminating him so that the light from his eyes appears to glow from within him, a picture of hope captioned _excellence_.

Later he’ll think back to this day and realise just how apt the banner was.

(He’ll also remember Knox carrying the discipline flag, remember finding the other boy passed out drunk on the bathroom floor the night of Chris’s party, and laugh at the irony).

**III**

Most Welton boys denounce Todd as a lost cause after several days of him quietly declining awkward invitation to study groups and seats at lunch. Most have better things to do that continuously attempt to force him to socialise and from the way the invitations are delivered, Todd quickly infers their interest surrounds the association with Jeffrey Anderson rather than any real desire to have the strange, silent boy sit in on their private jokes. It’s nothing different from his previous school and Todd is silently thrilled (and then immediately guilty, because he wants to do something with the opportunity, be something like Jeffrey, he should be trying harder) when they finally leave him alone.

All except for Neil Perry.

Neil seems to think that it’s his responsibility to look after Todd, which is how Todd ends up sitting on the outskirts of Neil and his friends at lunch and trailing around after them at break, floating in the background and resisting Neil’s kind but misdirected attempts to draw him into the conversation. It isn’t until Neil discovers Mr Keating’s annual and the Dead Poets Society that Todd becomes, whether he wants to or not, a permanent part of the group.

So they run from lunch to track down Mr Keating and force him to explain it to them. Mr Keating gives a fittingly poetic description (although “ _Gods were created_ ” sounds rather dramatic), but Todd hears almost none of it as he concentrates on the lead pooling in his gut. The bell rings and the boys are called inside, but not before Neil convinces them to hold a meeting that night. He looks so happy, so hopeful, that Todd doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can’t be a part of it.

**IV**

They continue planning during study hour, Meeks’s hand-drawn map to the cave half-buried beneath notepads and chemistry textbooks. Todd listens to snippets of their conversation between conjugating Latin verbs and wondering how to tell Neil that he won’t- _can’t_ \- go with them.

He’s thinking so hard he doesn’t realise that the conversation has stopped, doesn’t realise that Neil’s slipped in beside him until a tap on the shoulder snaps him out of it. He turns round and Neil’s eyes are alight with the same brightness Todd remembers from his first day.

“Are you coming tonight?” Neil asks, smile wider than ever. Todd stares back down at his book and mumbles a quick no. It’s easier for both of them to leave it at that.

But of course Neil refuses to take that answer.

“Well, why not?” he insists, and he looks so genuinely hurt that Todd has to try to explain, if only so that he can keep that look off Neil’s face.

“Mr Keating said that everyone had to read,” he begins, deliberately avoiding Neil’s eyes as he attempts to combine all the jumbled reasons into a coherent thought. “And I don’t wanna do that.”

Neil sits back a little, looking at Todd like he’s a particularly difficult trigonometry problem he needs to solve. “Jesus, Todd, you really have a problem with this, don’t you.”

Neil states it like a fact, like he’s only just realised that this terror of speaking in front of others, of having every part of himself considered and picked apart by those around him, is because of a dread in his bones and an invisible hand around his throat, not just something as simple and fleeting as new-school nerves. It might have taken him awhile, but Neil’s trying to understand rather than just brushing it off as Todd being foolish, so he tries to explain again. He opens his mouth, but instead of reasons, instead of telling Neil about how whenever he tries to speak, the feeling that what he says and thinks does not matter (and everyone is going to realise that he isn’t clever or funny or interesting like Neil or Charlie or Jeffrey, wasn’t worth the bother in the first place) twists his guts until he feels sick, what comes out is, “No. I-I just don’t wanna do it.”

_Brilliant, Todd. Instead of explaining, just tell him the same thing. That’ll help._

Instead of the irritation and pushing for answers Todd was expecting, Neil’s face lights up. “I’ve got an idea,” he says and hurries off back to the other table, ignoring Todd’s frantic whispers to stop. Neil’s back a second later, his infectious grin somehow wider than usual.

“What if you could come and you didn’t have to read? You just sat there and listened?”

“Th-that’s not how it works.”

“Nobody cares how it’s supposed to work. We’re a new society. We can do things a bit differently.”

“I don’t want to cause problems.”

“Nobody thinks you’re a problem, Todd. We all want you there, so are you coming or not?”

Todd sighs. Thinks for a moment. Then, “Okay,” and Neil’s smile almost makes his nerves worth it, makes him think that perhaps they do all want him there.

Todd will spend the next day sneakily elbowing Neil in the ribs to keep him awake and being silently thankful that the teachers think his disengagement is how he usually is, rather than an attempt not to yawn in class. He may be tired and Neil may have left his torch in the cave, but when he thinks about the first Dead Poets Society meeting, about Charlie’s poster and Meeks’s chanting and finally, finally, thinking that he’s found a place for himself at Welton, Todd’s glad he went.

Maybe Neil’s stubbornness was good for something.

**V**

Before meeting Neil, Todd didn’t realise that people continued to physically buzz with energy past their sixth birthday. Jeffrey’s tales of Welton talked about the other’s boys getting excited about rare trips into town or the sight of a girl walking past the school gates, but never about roommates who got excited over how neatly he had folded his jumper.

So when Neil came flying into the room while Todd tried to complete Mr Keating’s poetry assignment (he’d write and write and each sentence that came out was more awful and embarrassing than the last), Todd felt it was safe to assume that whatever it was couldn’t be that important.

Neil slams a poster onto Todd’s bed. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ is embellished in large letters across the top. “Look at it, Todd!” he exclaims, his face more alight than Todd has ever seen it. “Open auditions. _Open auditions!_ ” Neil grabs a blanket and throws it over his shoulders, jumps up onto his bed. “For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be an actor and now I’ve got a chance! Carpe diem, right?”

Todd has learnt that Neil has these moments of euphoria, where he is so full of joy that his heart soars above the clouds and leaves his brain behind. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring Neil down, but there is an awful though playing in the back of Todd’s mind that he has to bring up.

“W-what about your father?” he asks quietly. Neil visibly dims before him, the blanket sliding off his shoulders. He says nothing, staring down at the flyer still clutched in his hand. “Won’t he kill you if he finds out you auditioned without telling him?”

Neil turns his eyes away from the crumpled poster to stare out the window. “He doesn’t have to know,” he says off-hand, and Todd thinks that if he didn’t know Neil so well, he would have missed the slight tremble in his voice beneath the steely determination, the forced tone. He looks so desperate, so much like Todd in that moment that he tries again. “M-maybe if you just called your father and tried to explain, I’m sure he’s underst-”

“ _Jesus_ , Todd, whose side are you on?”

The angry shout shocks Todd’s voice away, makes him fold back in on himself as if he’d never dared to try to unfurl. Neil’s anger fades quickly, transformed first into some warped attempt to force Todd to get stirred up about something (as if Todd could ever cause some big scene like Charlie or moan and pout for days like Knox or even quietly break the rules like Meeks and Pitts and that goddamn radio of theirs), then back to his original excitement.

He snatches Todd’s ( _awful, embarrassing_ ) poetry from his hands and chases him around the room with it, laughing and jumping, filled with all of Puck’s energy and mischief, joking I’m being chased by Walt Whitman! and meaning _You’re part of the club_ and _I forgive you_ and the promise of friendship not ending.

Todd never mentions explain the play to Neil’s father again, and he and Neil act as though nothing ever happened. Sometimes the little voice in Todd’s head reminds him that Neil is running on borrowed time, that there will be Hell to pay later once his father realises Neil’s betrayal. But Todd is seventeen and doesn’t realise how short that time is and Neil makes him feel like he could be _something_ , so he doesn’t let the voice drag him down, but shakes it off and flies up to meet Neil above the clouds, where people act out their poems and practice lines of Shakespeare backwards and the light never, ever fades from Neil’s eyes.

(He thinks later, despite Charlie’s refusal to accept it and Knox’s hollow comforts, that maybe if he’d just tried to speak up, if for just once he’d not let the fear drive the words back, maybe things would have turned out differently. But he’s not sure how much things would have changed- if Neil would have dropped out, utterly miserable but alive or carried on anyway, had one night of pure happiness on stage and put a bullet in his head three hours later.

He’s also not sure which one is worse).

**VI**

Some days Todd thinks Mr Keating does not see the world in the same monochrome bubble that traps Welton and everyone in it. He sees the world in colour, takes the brightness of the outside world and the hope the boys hold for their futures and sees it reflected in the light of Neil’s eyes, in Charlie’s smirk, in the shake of Todd’s fingers. Other days Todd wonders if maybe things would be easier if Keating could see some of the grey in the shadows under Todd’s eyes and in the stutter of his vice, if only because at least then Todd wouldn’t feel like such a disappointment.

Todd understands that to most of the class this poetry assignment is English homework and nothing more, but it means something to Todd. Poetry feels like an escape to Todd, stories that flow like music and descriptions of a world Todd lives in but does not recognise. It’s more than that though. This poem is Todd’s desperate attempt to prove to Mr Keating that his lessons mean something to him, that Todd is trying to be brighter and better and bolder the way he wants Todd to be.

But the poem isn’t good enough.

 _Todd’s_ not good enough and that means he can’t read it in English because then Keating will think that Todd doesn’t care and he _does_. He cares so much that sometimes he thinks he will shatter.

He should have realised that Keating would never let him get away with it.

Keating announces Todd’s greatest fears to the class (“ _Mr Anderson thinks that everything inside him is worthless and embarrassing_ ” and Todd has spent so long trying to hide it, thought he was doing so well, and how dare Mr Keating expose these parts of him so nonchalantly-), pulls him to the front and makes him do some ridiculous _yawp_ over and over again to prove he can be a barbarian. He points out a picture of Walt Whitman on the wall and Todd’s head fills with words and suddenly the phrase _sweaty-toothed madman_ escapes the confines of his mind, hanging still and gloriously free in the classroom.

Keating keeps talking, prompts him to go on and Todd thinks _to Hell with it_ and finally all the words in his head are released.

When Todd opens his eyes again, the floor scattered with words like _a stare that pounds my brain_ and _truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold_ , the class is staring back and the silence feels so heavy it threatens to drown him. Then, slowly, they begin to clap. Keating comes back up to Todd, whispers _don’t you forget this_ and etches the thought into Todd’s bones

. Neil though, he’s still just staring up at Todd with an expression he can’t quite place.

Todd doesn’t know the exact moment he fell in love with Neil Perry. It could have been their poetry chase around their bedroom, when Neil read at the first Dead Poets meeting, eyes bright and smile soft, or even just last night, Neil’s moment of vulnerability when Todd thought _he feels like me sometimes._

Todd doesn’t know when he fell in love with Neil Perry, but he thinks that this is when Neil fell in love with him.

**VII**

Todd always knew that he was the disappointment of the family. Jeffrey was everything his parents had wanted- smart and athletic and confident, the combination of every desirable trait under the sun.

(“ _One of our finest_ ,” Mr Nolan had called Jeff. Todd doesn’t think Mr Nolan even knows his name.)

And Todd understands that his parents have more important things to worry about than him, like Jeff’s studies and his father’s work and his mother’s church group, but some tiny, childish part of him still clung to the hope that they still cared about him.

That tiny piece crumbles and dies as he stares down at the two identical desk sets.

They didn’t even remember what they got him last year. Todd’s father always used to call him _five ninety-eight_ like some twisted nickname (what all the chemicals in the human body would be worth if they were added up- _all he’d ever be worth unless he worked every day to improve himself_ ) but up until now he’d always thought that his parents loved him, at least a little.

He thought he didn’t care what his parents did anymore, but the sick feeling in his gut tells him otherwise.

He ends up sitting on one of the stone bridges that connects the school, the second desk set lying beside him, a sickening reminder of his failure in his parent’s eyes. He’s forgotten his jumper and it’s freezing, but to get up and find it would be to leave the pity bubble he’s created for himself, so he sits there and shivers instead.

Neil comes along after rehearsal some time later, when Todd can no longer hear anything but the wind and his body feels as though it is made out of ice. Neil’s cheeks are flushed with excitement and his eyes are bright and his very presence makes Todd feel, in some strange way, that things might just be a bit better than what they seem.

“What are you doing out here?” Neil asks, stopping in front of Todd.

_Trying to figure out how to make my parents love me more. Wondering why I still care about them._

“It’s my birthday,” he says instead.

“Is it your birthday? Happy birthday,” Neil says, warm and caring and Neil. “What’d you get?”

And then Todd’s opening his mouth and spilling the whole story, because ever since the poetry incident in English it’s been getting easier to let the words out of his head. Neil laughs and picks up the desk set, throwing it up in the air and Todd’s next to him, laughing as well.

“The world’s first unmanned flying desk set,” Neil announces grandly.

Todd takes the desk set and hurls it off the side. The glass shatters, papers floating up like birds, and for a moment the warm feeling burns so bright that Todd thinks maybe he could fly as well.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Neil says, nudging Todd’s shoulder. “You’ll get another one next year.”

(Later, when Neil is gone and the cold never leaves Todd no matter how many jumpers he puts on, he sits on the ledge from that night and hangs his feet over the side. He thinks of the desk set and how Neil managed to make even that okay and wonders how it would feel to fly like the desk set, if somehow Neil would take the new dark world and make it bright again, let Todd float away from Welton like paper birds.

But Todd has been cracking ever since Charlie woke him up in the middle of the night and he knows that if he tries to escape what’s holding him down he will shatter in the process.

He walks back into Welton).

**VIII**

Welton, Todd has learnt, relies on routines. They get up at the same time every day, have the same sloppy rice pudding every Thursday night, receive trigonometry homework twice a week without fail.

The Dead Poets Society have their own routines. Every Friday night at eleven they climb out of the loose window on the bottom floor and steal away to the old cave, where they read poetry until Meeks’s watch tells them it’s four, or until Pitts begins to fall asleep on Knox’s shoulder.

Neil, in comparison, comes alive when something out of the ordinary happens. Where Todd finds refuge in the mundane, Neil jumps at the chance to do anything that breaks up the monotony of daily life. It’s Neil who loses himself in Puck, who stares up at Mr Keating with worshipping eyes because they represent rebellion, yes, but controlled rebellion, the type respectable Welton boys do.

Neil’s enthusiasm is infectious, and there are times when Todd feels just as brave as him, time when he wants to get up and do _something_ , anything. Despite this, Todd still feels the beginning of lead pooling in his stomach whenever Neil says _let’s do something wild, just you and me_ , is reminded of the sickening feeling that one day Neil is going to get tired of him not being bold enough, brave enough, bright enough.

The lead is there after a Society meeting in November, when Neil pulls him back into the cave with a soft tug on his sleeve as the others left.

“There’s something I want to show you.” He says, and Todd melts and follows unquestioningly.

Neil shuffles around with the little ledge on which they store the God of the Cave as Todd settles himself back down on his regular seat, pulling the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands. Neil gives a gleeful cry and drops down next to him, not caring about knocking against Todd, who shoves him off.

“Ta-da!” Neil says, presenting Todd the _something_ with a flourish. _Something_ turns out to be a school exercise book, but when Todd opens it, he finds it filled with quotes, some he recognises from poems they’ve studied in class, others originals from their meetings. Charlie’s first poem is nestled in the centrefold and when he turns the page Todd find the words _truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold_ twisted around a corner.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he says, feeling his cheeks begin to heat.

“Pretty hard to forget your best friend pulling the best poem in class out of thin air.” Neil’s voice is genuine, his eyes soft, and there is nowhere else in the world that Todd would rather be.

“I’m not really that good,” he hears himself saying. “Besides, you’re the one that’s unforgettable. I could never do half the things you do.”

Neil’s looking at him the way he did right before the bedroom poetry chase, like he’s analysing every word Todd says as if the key to understanding him could be found beneath them.

“You don’t have any idea how incredible you are, do you?” Neil says softly.

Todd finally meets his eyes. “You don’t have any idea how much of that is because of you.”

Neil dips his head and closes the space between them. Todd’s brain short-circuits for a second, unable to comprehend that _Neil is kissing him_. But Todd’s been unresponsive for too long and Neil pulls away, eyes sliding towards the ground.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done-” Todd surprises himself when he’s the one to lean forward this time. Neil’s lips are warm against his own and the God of the Cave smiles down at them and for the first time in his life Todd feels like he is _living_.

(Todd stumbles off to the cave the day of Neil’s funeral. He sits there, longing for the hope and courage that used to radiate off the cave in waves. Now all he can feel is the reminder that things would always end in tragedy and the sickening guilt that he wasn’t enough for Neil in the end.

The notebook is open, displaying the line _The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing, alive enough to have strength to die_. The God of the Cave stares down, smile turned mocking at the irony.

 _When did this lose its hope?_ Todd asks himself. _When did we stop being enough? Were we ever enough?_

He sits in the cave until the sky turns dark, awaiting answers that never come. It’s better that they don’t, he thinks.

He’s not sure he’d like the answers very much.)

**IX**

The weight in Todd’s stomach has been lifting ever since Neil kissed him in the cave. When the weight of expectations and disappointed looks from the teachers who _really expected better from Jeffrey Anderson’s brother_ make Todd feel as though he is about to crumble Neil is there, with his soft smile, the one they’ve all been making fun of Knox for wearing, a new scene of Midsummer for them to practice together, a line from the latest poem Neil’s fallen in love with. They hold hands under the table at dinner, sit pressed up against one another at Society meetings, steal kisses in alcoves between classes and in their room after lights out. And if Neil goes quiet and closed off sometimes, says _I don’t really feel like reading tonight_ instead of jumping at the chance to read an original, it’s nothing to worry about, because Todd is the strange, quiet one, not bright, enthusiastic Neil and _you worry too much Todd. If something was really wrong I’d tell you_.

So there’s nothing to worry about.

Right?

“We should run away together,” Neil says out of the blue one day. The two of them are sitting curled up together on Neil’s bed, one hand entwined as Neil read his copy of Midsummer and Todd a book of poetry Mr Keating lent him.

“W-what?” Todd asks, because disbelief is the only way he can find to respond to Neil’s dreams for the two of them.

“We should run away together,” Neil repeats. The book slides from his lap onto the cover as he turns to face Todd, taking his other hand and looping their fingers together. “Not now. But someday.”

“Where to?” Todd asks, playing along because the part of him that isn’t scared anymore wants this adventure just as much as Neil does.

“I don’t know. New York, Europe, _Mars_. Just anywhere that’s not Welton. Just think about it. We could go anywhere, do _anything_ and nobody would be able to stop us. No parents, no teachers, just me and you and poetry and acting.” He breaks away, grinning. “It’ll be perfect.”

Todd can’t help but agree. If he could he would tell Neil that anywhere with him is perfect, that the poetry will all be about him because Neil is steadily becoming Todd’s whole world and he is powerless against it.

“What do you say? Will you run away with me into the sunset?” Neil asks, staring up at Todd imploringly.

Todd smiles, the one only Neil can get out of him. “Someday.”

“Promise?” Neil holds out his little finger and Todd smiles broader, wraps his own finger around Neil’s and presses their lips together, a kiss that means _I promise_ and _I wish we could run away together right now_ and _you have no idea how important you are to me_.

(One day Todd will leave Welton. He will go anywhere he wants to and he will write poetry, and all the poetry will be about Neil because Neil is his entire world, even after he’s gone, and he will watch people act and it will not be perfect, because nothing could ever be perfect without Neil, but it will not hurt to breathe and that will have to be enough.)

**X**

Neil slinks into their room one day, shoulders hunched the way Todd’s are every day in class, and some of Todd’s worst fears are realised. Neil had been noticeably absent at dinner, but the other Poets had chalked it up to overexcitement about the play tomorrow playing havoc with Neil’s head. Instead, Neil explains, his father had found out about the play and had told him to quit.

“He thinks it’s just some silly whim,” Neil tells him, eyes downcast. “He doesn’t understand what acting means to me. I-I can’t explain to him how it’s one of the only things that makes me happy.”

Todd sits next to him, their clasped hands the only weak comfort he can offer. He wishes he was more like Charlie, could find some mad way to make everything fall into place, but Todd is too meek, too introverted, not quite bright enough to help.

“Talk to Mr Keating,” he offers, because Mr Keating might be the only person who can come up with a good enough solution. Neil takes a shaky breath, squeezes Todd’s hand and stands up.

“Carpe diem, right?” Neil says, a hint of his signature smile on his face, and he’s gone before Todd can say another word.

Neil gets back just as Hager declares lights out. He slips off his shoes and crawls into Todd’s bed in his clothes, turning to the two face.

“What did Mr Keating say?” Todd whispers, breaking the silence.

“To tell my father the truth,” Neil says, voice still as soft as it had been earlier. “About what acting means to me. He thinks that if my father understands how I feel, then he won’t make me quit the play.”

“Are you sure?” Neil give a derisive snort, the sound empty compared to his usual laugh. “No. He won’t care how I feel, he’ll just tell me that it’s for the best and make me quit anyway.” A smile flickers across his face, voice becoming more determined. “But I’m doing it anyway. My father’s going to control me for my whole life, Todd. I won’t ever be able to do anything ever again that he’s not already selected for me. But I can have this one night of freedom before it’s over- and I’m going to, no matter what happens.”

Todd feels hope blooming in his chest again. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispers, a promise to Neil and to himself, to the hope in his chest and the voice in his head that reminds him that if Neil’s father finds out, things might not be okay ever again.

**XI**

(Todd remembers that night in pieces, fragments of memories forming an incomplete picture.

Neil shines on stage, bright eyes and brighter smile forming the mask of the dynamic, mischievous Puck Neil has been transformed into. He shouts lines, capers about stage, bubbling over with energy and reckless abandon. Todd has seen Neil act these scenes a hundred times, knows every line by heart, and still he finds himself enchanted by this combination of Puck and Neil. Charlie’s whisper of “ _He’s really good_!” makes Todd’s chest fill with pride and he makes a note to tell Neil about Keating’s approving nod later.

Instead of meeting Neil by the exit, he finds him being dragged out by his father, eyes determinedly staring at his shoelaces. He reaches out to get Neil’s attention, to find some explanation for why his father is there, but Neil just shakes his head, says I can’t, Todd, and Todd can hear the cracks in his voice.

Neil doesn’t stop for any of the Poets, not for Charlie’s shouts or Keating’s congratulations, just obeys his father’s every word. Mr Perry stands nose-to-nose with Mr Keating, hisses something that makes the smile slide off the teacher’s face. Todd’s last image of Neil is of him hunched over in his seat, biting his lip, and Todd doesn’t think he’s ever seen Neil look so _empty_ before.

 _Nothing is going to be okay_ , the voice in Todd’s head says simply, squashing the remains of hope.

The Poets walk back to Welton in silence, all joy from the evening carried away with the Perry family car. Chris slipped away when the realisation hit that she was out of her depth, leaving Knox with half-hearted promises of phones calls and the remains of a lovesick smile on his face. Even Charlie is silent and pensive, which, Todd thinks, is the biggest giveaway that something is wrong.

They reach the entrance to Welton, and Pitts finally breaks the silence. “What do you think Neil’s father is going to do to him?”

“Give him the lecture of his life,” Knox offers. “Stop him from doing anything Mr Perry doesn’t want him to do.”

“He already does that, Knoxious,” Charlie shoots back. “Not many other ways he can control Neil’s life.”

“It’ll be okay,” Meeks says weakly, attempts at optimism falling flat. “It has to be.”

Nobody wants to argue with that, so they separate into their rooms instead.

Todd is woken in the middle of the night to the Poets crowded around his doorway, faces blank, to Charlie’s cracked whisper of _Neil’s dead_ , to heavy snow falling on Welton as if all warmth has left the world with Neil.

He doesn’t remember how he ended up outside in the falling snow, Poets trailing anxiously behind, only the need to feel something other than the numbness that settled in his bones with Charlie’s confession. He looks around at the seemingly unchanged Welton, at the boating lake where he used to practice lines with Neil, and thinks that _nothing is okay, this is the price you pay for swimming against the stream_ , thinks _you could have stopped this from happening, but you were too concerned with being brighter and braver and bolder than you can ever be and this is your punishment_.

And all of a sudden he is crouched, vomiting, in the snow and the Poets surround him and he is screaming about Neil’s father, all the awful thoughts that have been trapped in his head because Neil, his Neil just shot himself in the head and there must be some way he could have stopped this taking Neil away from the world.

He is running, he notices, towards the lake, but he trips, collapses into the snow.

He lies there, sobbing, as the ice creeps into his bones, and he wonders how love can hurt so much.)

**XII**

Welton looks for a scapegoat, and they find Mr Keating, young, bright-eyed, not-following-the-curriculum Mr Keating, delivered to them by Cameron, more concerned with following the rules of Welton than upholding the values of the Society. The teachers blame Mr Keating’s encouragement of breaking from predetermined path, say Neil would never have been driven to such desperation had he not believed himself to be doing something freeing. Todd listens to their conversations and thinks perhaps Neil would not have been so desperate had freedom not been so unattainable.

He does not say this aloud, because he is not Charlie ( _volatile, emotional Charlie who acts before he thinks and gets himself kicked out of Welton because of it_ ), because they’ve already guilted and forced the Poets into signing away everything the Society stood for, because Todd has not spoken a word since that day.

He opens his mouth and the words stick in his throat like glass, contained by memories of loud Charlie and talkative Neil and Mr Keating’s way with words, and how speaking their mind never helped them, in the end.

 _Carpe diem_. What rubbish that turned out to be.

It’s Mr Nolan who they have cover English, in the classroom that is at once too large and not large enough, the two empty desks impossible to miss. Todd wonders if Mr Nolan is covering all of the English classes, or just the class who cared enough about Mr Keating’s words to do something about them.

Mr Nolan talks, strides up and down the classroom, with none of the energy of past lessons. He’s staring at Todd, and his mouth is moving, but all Todd can hear is buzzing. He keeps talking, snapping something and Todd just sits there blankly. He feels as empty as Neil looked, and lonelier than he can ever remember.

Mr Keating is at the door, asking about his personals, walking between desks, past Neil’s abandoned one as students stare at the floor to avoid eye contact. Keating taps against Todd’s desk as he passes, gives him a small smile from his office as he packs up the last of his things. He looks as lifeless as Todd feels, as Neil did from behind a car window.

He makes his way back to the door, Mr Keating who believed in leading extraordinary lives, who made them feel that there was still hope, who showed Todd a talent, gave him a voice. He cannot let this be the legacy of the Dead Poets Society, cannot allow Welton to twist his teachings.

He cannot let them believe that the person who gave Neil the most hope was the one that killed him.

There is a disconnect between Todd's feet and his brain, because as he is thinking this he is standing up, stepping onto the desk

"Oh Captain, my Captain!" he says, meaning _thank you_ and _it’s not your fault_ and _we will not let this be the way they remember you_.

Mr Nolan is shouting at him, but Todd does not move, charges into the battle for his heart and soul. As he stands there, quiet and inadequate, something stirs within the class. There’s a thud of footsteps on Knox’s desk- “Oh Captain, my Captain!”

Others are joining them, standing on their desks in a final show of unity against a school that crushes anyone who tries to challenge what they are told. Mr Nolan is still shouting at them. From Todd’s new perspective on the desk, he looks very small.

“Thank you boys,” Mr Keating says, and he is smiling now, and Todd thinks he understands what they are trying to say. “Thank you.”

(“What you did was pretty cool,” Jeffrey tells him in the quiet of the kitchen that Christmas, as Todd tries to hold himself together by the cracks. “Still not sure what got you so worked up about it though.”

Todd wishes he could find the words to explain to Jeffrey how much the Dead Poets Society meant to him. What it stood for. He wishes he could explain Neil, bright, brave Neil who was better than Todd could ever hope to be, Neil who Todd loved more than anything else and who has taken Todd’s heart to the grave with him. He scrambles for a way of teaching Jeff _carpe diem_ , finding a way to explain to perfect Jeff, who has never struggled under the weight of expectations, quite how this phrase showed Todd a different side to the world, just for a moment, one where he was more than just _Jeffrey Anderson’s disappointing little brother_.

Instead he shrugs and wanders back to his room, where he spends most of the holidays, still not saying a word. He has stood up in front of Mr Nolan to protect Mr Keating, has announced the power of living to a class who didn’t all understand the importance.

There is nothing left to say.)

**XIII**

The Welton cycle continues. Life does not stop for death and Welton does not allow for longer than a week of grieving, leaving the Poets flailing for some sort of hollow comfort in the middle of the mess they find themselves in. The teachers watch their every move, even a year later. Seating charts are swiftly implemented and bedroom pairs are changed as their final year begins. Teachers linger at their table at mealtimes, randomly check their shoes for mud and their desks for forbidden poetry.

Welton feels more like a prison than ever, not helped by Knox unintentionally gifting Nolan the nickname of “the Warden” during one of his increasingly common, and increasingly lengthy, moans. Sometimes Todd is strangely grateful for the conformity, somewhere he can fade away into anonymity and not have to feel for a moment, or maybe to feel too much. Other times he lies awake at night listening to the gurgle of the radiator, roommate who doesn’t care about sucking all the marrow out of life snoring in the bed next to his, and thinks that maybe he can understand the quiet desperation Neil felt.

He’d do anything to break free from the world that threatens to smother him.

Todd’s voice returns in slow waves. It is stronger now, more like Neil made it, built up from the stunt in Keating’s class, but then it will crack, falter, and the words will get trapped in his throat until he begins to feel himself shrinking away again.

It’s usually Knox who helps Todd out of that state, taking him into a corner and gushing over his new girlfriend, giving dopey, dreamy grins and lovesick sighs until Todd feels himself smile again. Meeks chatters on about satellites and Latin conjugations, filling the silence himself, and Pittsie just fiddles with whatever project he and Meeks are working on until the silence feels comforting rather than suffocating.

As the end of the year approaches, the nearness to freedom tints the dull grey of Welton with glimpses of colour. He no longer regards Cameron with disgust, thinks he may learn to forgive him one day- they were all just scared kids conditioned into obedience, after all. The dull, monotonous English teacher could be as bright and inspiring as Mr Keating, given the chance. Thinking of Neil no longer causes Todd to feel that his whole world will collapse under him, but instead causes a slight twinge in Todd’s gut and a warm, nostalgic feeling in his chest.

The only thing he has no idea what to do with is Five Centuries of Verse.

The connections to Neil and the Society caused him to salvage it from Neil’s desk when his parents came to clear his side of the room, hiding it in his pillowcase. He had opened it that night, overwhelmed by the sheer emptiness of the room, and found it filled with Neil’s handwriting. There were annotations scrawled in the margins of poems, stars by Neil’s favourites, notes about the meetings in the back, all of Neil’s love for poetry displayed throughout.

The poster for Midsummer is carefully folded and slid into the back cover, creases prominent from months of being unfolded and replaced with care.

Todd has kept the book with him ever since, a comfort and defiance of Welton, but as time approaches for him to leave, he feels uneasy about taking it with him. The book is a legacy, for Neil and the Dead Poets Society, and it feels almost selfish to hoard the memories for himself. He could send it to Mr Keating, but Keating is already an initiate, understands the importance of going through each day each day not just surviving, but finding the beauty in the mundane, finding sparks of passion within yourself, simply living.

Todd just wants to make a difference to someone, show them that they are not constricted within the limits of Welton and expectations.

**XIV**

Inspiration hits in the form of Michael Baxter, a sophomore who reminds Todd so much of himself that he sometimes catches himself searching desperately for the differences, if only to prove that he hasn’t been cloned.

Todd looks at the boy, sees hands that shake when he speaks, eyes that gleam at the sounds of poetry, and asks himself _what does he need?_ He needs to discover that there is a life outside Welton. He needs the life that only poetry can bring. He needs the courage to move forward that can only be created by the Society, by the bonds forged in a smoky cave at 2am on a Friday night.

He finally manages to corner Michael on his own on Graduation day. The whole school, teachers and parents are gathered on the front lawn, voices drowning each other as parents compete for power, attempting to climb high enough on the social ladder to ensure their sons continuing their pre-planned lifestyle. The Senior class sneak gulps of cheap whiskey behind the chapel between being paraded around by proud parents, a send-off and a rebellion against the school that no longer controls them.

Todd finds Michael when the latter sneaks into the trophy room Todd has already found solace in. He startles when he sees Todd staring up and the senior class photos Mr Keating had shown them on his first day, already beginning to slip away again.

“You don’t have to go.”

Todd’s voice is quiet, but for another boy so equally silent it could have been a shout. He slides up the bench, ever so slightly. Michael takes the silent invitation and perches on the end, looking up at the same wall of strangers Todd thinks about every day. The space between them extends endlessly, filled with promise.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” Todd murmurs to himself.

Michael starts at the noise. “W-what?”

Todd smiles. “Were you ever told about Mr Keating? The English teacher who got fired?”

Michael nods. His face is turned towards Todd now, his interest obvious.

“He took us in here for our first English lesson to teach us about seizing the day. Poetry became a reminder of that.”

Michael’s eyes fix on the book in Todd’s lap with longing, darting away sharply as Todd follows their direction.

 _Carpe diem_ , Todd thinks to himself. _Now or never_.

“Have you ever heard of the Dead Poets Society?”

Michael shakes his head. “What is that?”

Todd opens his mouth to begin the same explanation Keating had given, but stops himself. It’s Todd’s responsibility to stop new initiates making the same mistakes they did, to stop them forgetting so caught up in the fun that they forget that they do not own the world.

“The Dead Poets Society is dedicated to learning how to live.”

He slides one hand over the book in his lap, a silent farewell to Neil’s inner thoughts, then places it in Michael’s lap.

“There’s a letter in the back that explains everything.”

He doesn’t trust himself to say more, to explain how much the Society means to him. He thinks he may break down in tears again if he does, crumble under the weight of continuing a legacy and the loss of his last physical connection to Neil.

He gets up and walks towards the door, so near to freedom he can taste it. His hand is on the doorframe when he turns around again.

“Just… don’t get so caught up with your head in the clouds that your feet can’t touch the ground anymore,” he says, because that feels like something Mr Keating would say, because he feels some sort of responsibility to these boys whose future he might change, because he knows how easy it is to float away and how much it hurts when you hit the ground again.

Michael nods earnestly and Todd is struck for a minute at just how young he is, how quickly Neil’s death forced all the Poets to grow up. His hand is still on the book and the smile is still on his face and Todd thinks that maybe everything will be okay this time, that the new initiates will find nothing but hope for the future.

Todd is beginning to feel hope for the future as well.

He turns away and walks out of the room, down the hallway towards the front doors, towards freedom from Welton and all it represents. He hears Michael begin to read the Society opening to himself and the rhythm beats in time to the hum of hope in his bones.

“I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately,” Michael says.

 _Carpe diem_ , sings the hope. It sounds like the Neil from Todd’s memories, bright and warm and full of life. _Carpe diem._


End file.
